Because You're My Wife
by Colourful Darkness
Summary: Kenna is forced to marry Bash, but can they learn to love?
1. The Wedding Night

**Because You're My Wife**

Chapter 1: Wedding Night

That night Kenna cried and shivered. The despair she felt crept through every nerve. Eighteen years old and she had done the thing she swore she'd never do. Marry a man of little title and wealth. Damn King Henry. Damn him to hell. Damn Bash too.

She heard the door creak open and saw Sebastian standing in the doorway if his chambers. Her chambers now too. Kenna felt sick at the thought of sharing a bed with him. But then again, she had her share of sexual un-pleasantries, and surely he couldn't be worse than King Henry. Hopefully, he would finish quickly and leave her be. The thought only gave her little comfort.

Wide-eyed, Kenna watched Bash take of his shirt and drop it to the floor. Her fear thickened and she felt sick. She couldn't do this. _Be brave Kenna_, she thought to herself. _Get a grip_. She tilted her neck and looked at him from across the room. He was handsome, she couldn't deny that. But he was not what she desired.

"Shall we consummate this marriage, then?" she said, feigning nonchalance.

Bash didn't reply. His face looked as pain as she felt. Kenna didn't want to make a move to the bed. She didn't want to position herself as an object for offering. But then again, that's all she was.

Tears raked down her porcelain cheeks as she lowered herself to the fall, and cradled her arms around her knees. Hugging herself tightly, she felt that it might protect her not just from the evening chill, but Bash too. It was like a defence mechanism. When she crossed her arms over her chest, no one could get to her heart. No one could hurt her.

"Get off the floor, Kenna," he said firmly. "The bed is much more comfortable than the floor."

She gazed at him, wide-eyed and fearful.

He sighed and moved towards her, extending his hand. He pulled her up and she fearfully and hesitantly climbed into the bed, pulling the covers up to shield her thinly clothed body from his gaze. He moved to climb in beside her and she stiffened.

"I'm not going to touch you," he said softly.

Even through the darkness, she could see the depth of his irises.

"You're not?" she whispered.

"Not until you want me to."

"What happens if I never want you to?"

He shrugged. "I'm not going to make you do anything you don't want to do."

Kenna didn't believe him. He was a man, after all. All they wanted was sex.

She nodded and hugged her pillow as she stared out the window. She was tense for a long time, anticipating for him to go back on his word, for him to ravage her body without her consent. But he never did. She couldn't sleep. The warmth of his body beside her was unsettling. She could feel his gaze on her spine.

"Kenna?" his voice flooded through the darkness.

She didn't reply, but pretended to be asleep.

"I know you're awake," he continued. "I don't expect you to fall asleep beside me. We, after all, are just strangers to one another. I'm going to sleep on the floor, to make it more comfortable for the both of us."

Kenna turned around and look at him. "You don't have to do that. You're the man; you don't have to do anything you don't want to do. I am just the woman…I can put up with anything you decide."

"I don't doubt it," he said, "but I want to – no offence but I can't sleep with you beside me either. It'll be much more comfortable night with me on the floor."

She began to unravel the blanket from around herself.

"You have the blanket," she said.

"No. You keep it."

"But you'll get cold."

"Lady Kenna, I've spent most of my nights in the forest…in the darkness…I'll be fine."

He got off the bed and lay supine on the wooden floor. Kenna saw the rigid muscles of his chest, the defined contours of athleticism.

"Goodnight," she whispered.

"Goodnight."

As Kenna settled into an uneasy sleep, she got the sensation that Bash would've preferred to be alone in the darkness than here with her.

And when she thought he'd fallen asleep, she let the tears come fully.

Bash listened to her cry. Every ragged sob felt like an arrow to his heart. He didn't even like the woman, but the sound of her grief haunted him through the night. And he knew, this would never be a love story.

**A/N: So what do you guys think? Continue or not? I'd love your reviews **


	2. Brave Faces

Chapter 2: Brave Faces

Kenna was alone when she woke up the next morning, and it didn't surprise her. She had been alone a lot in her life to know there were many types of loneliness. There was the loneliness she felt when she was surrounded by other women, who were nice enough, but constantly whispered behind her back. Then there was the loneliness she felt when she was Henry; the gaping void that they were once something more…that she was something more…the next Diane…the next girl in diamonds and jewels...Then there was the bottomless loneliness she felt now. It was like running through a crowded castle, screaming for help but no one can you hear.

Sighing, Kenna got out of bed. She was going to make herself beautiful, put on a brave face for the rest of the castle…for what else could she do?

She sat down at Bash's table in front of his shaving mirror. She hardly recognized her reflection. Her swollen eyes were rimmed with sleep, her cheeks pale, and the fire which was once in her eyes had dimmed down. She reached for a makeup brush just as Bash walked in. They didn't greet each other.

"You're shaving mirror is useless," said Kenna. Her words came out cold which was not what she intended.

"You'll have your dressing table and mirror brought in," said Bash automatically.

"And where would they go?" snapped Kenna, looking around the shabby room sarcastically. "I don't understand why I couldn't stay in my old chambers."

"Because you're married."

_Married._ The words tasted like poison in his mouth and Kenna recognized the spite in his voice.

"Yes, I know. King's bastard no less and I asked for a man of title."

"And the King gave me one."

"Ha!" Fists clenched around her make up brush, Kenna, for once, felt downright vicious. "The Master of Horse and Hunt?" she scorned. "That's something Henry made up. It comes with no wealth…no land…"

Kenna opened her mouth to say something again but Bash cut her off before she got the chance.

"You act as if this was my fault," he retorted, "I'm no happy about it than you."

"You?" she said, raising a cynical eyebrow. "What do you have to complain about?" Kenna turned back to the face the mirror. The fire in her eyes had returned. She smiled slightly as she continued speaking, "You're now married to a beautiful woman of noble birth –"

"Who's notorious for sleeping with my father," exclaimed Bash. "I see no awkwardness there."

She felt like he had slapped her with his words. Kenna tried not to flinch but didn't quite manage it. Feigning nonchalance, she dipped her brush in the powder and said, "Yes, well, it's all in the past."

"Is it?" said bash. "We both know Henry – we both know he enjoys the privileges of kingship and you enjoy the privileges of whatever a relationship with my father can get you."

Kenna spun around in her chair and glared at him. "You make it sound like I'm the most self-centred woman in France!"

"I can't say that. I haven't met all the women in France."

"Fine!" Kenna slammed her brush on the table. "All I care about is me and all you care about is Mary." She saw shock register across Bash's face. "I'm not jealous," she continued. "Truly. But a love like that could destroy both our lives."

Feeling like she had made her point, Kenna walked away and picked up a ribbon to tie around her dress.

"She's married," she heard Bash say; "it's in the past."

Kenna turned and glared at him, her eyebrows arched as if saying, Is it? Bash must have got the message because he said hastily, "Alright I see your point. We both need to keep our pasts in the past."

Kenna suddenly felt him standing behind her. She could feel his body heat. His eyes on her back. It made her nervous and she fumbled with the ribbon she was supposed to be tying, when suddenly she felt his callous hands take the ribbon from her gentle ones. Kenna froze, unsure of what to do. She felt the ribbon begin to tighten and then heard his voice, "This is our life now Kenna. It's not what we chose but we're married before King and God, til the death. I won't pretend I love you but we should probably start liking each other." Bash paused and then said, "Is that too tight?"

"Sorry, what?"

"The ribbon. Is it too tight?"

"No, it's fine. Thank you."

She turned around and looked up at him. "I can try and make this work," she said.

"And that means no more sleeping with the King," said Bash sternly.

"I don't want to sleep with the King," cried Kenna, aghast.

"Swear it."

"I swear."

Bash held out his hand. "Shall we put on brave faces and break fast with the rest of the world?"

"Yes. Let's do it."

Kenna pushed back her shoulders and plastered her arms elegantly to the side. Bash watched transfixed as Kenna willed her posture so it almost looked like she was transforming before his eyes, as if Cinderella's fairy godmother had blessed Kenna too.

"Bash?"

"Yes?"

"Do I look like myself?" asked Kenna timidly. She felt like her eyes were still raw and red from crying.

Bash's brow furrowed in confusion. "You look like you always do."

"Like a lady?" said Kenna, standing tall and holding her chin high. Bash thought she almost looked untouchable.

"Yes," he said, "like a lady."

Kenna smiled graciously and took his arm. "Let's do this. Let's put on brave faces, so that Henry knows he can't break me, and Mary knows that you're okay too."

Bash led her to the door. "At least that's one thing you and I have in common," he said, "We're both actors in this meddlesome court."

He opened the door and ushered her out.

Around Kenna, other married couples were coming out from their chambers for breakfast too. They were smiling and laughing, it seemed their conversations greatly differed from the one between Bash and her.

"Brave face, Kenna," Bash whispered in her ear. His hot breath filtered down her neck. "Are you ready?"

"I've always been ready."

Kenna exhaled a shuddering breath. She smiled, even though her knuckles were turning white around Bash's arm. She smiled through it all, as they descended into the hall. She listened to the melody of Bash's uneven breathing, the clonk of her own heels against the polished timber, and if hearts could break, she swore hers was breaking just that little bit more.

**A/N: Thanks for all your reviews. Especially from – that's the nicest review I've ever received. Thanks a lot! **

**Feedback on this chapter is also appreciated you guys. And most dialogue from this chapter is taken from the actual episode. Some chapters will be based on episodes whereas others will be gapes and silences. Happy reading! **


	3. For Mary

Chapter 3: For Mary

_Breathe_, Kenna told herself. _Just breathe._

Every nerve in her body was shaking. _For Scotland_, she told herself. _This is for Scotland. For Mary. For justice in a cruel world. _

She reached Henry's chambers. Her palms were sweating. Two guards barred the door.

"The King is not in his chambers Lady Kenna," one said.

"He asked me to wait for him." The lie came out easily. But then again, perhaps everyone was liars in court. The guards moved out of the way and let her in. She shut the doors with a snap, slightly satisfied at how easy it was to get into the King's chambers. But the feeling dissipated when she remembers her nights here. The feel of Henry on top of her; the way she suffocated like a coalminer from the weight of him; the starch of strange smelling sheets, and his rough hands, clawing, crawling all over her skin.

_It's all in the past_, she thought, pushing the horrid memories away. _He can't hurt me anymore._

Kenna walked around the room, jerking open every draw and searching through their contents, looking under ever cushion, desk and surface. She rapped her fingers against the wall, leaning against its solid frame to settle her trembling, thinking about all the places the contract could be. _Where did you put the contract, Henry? Where did you put it?_

She suddenly noticed a large chest pushed against the far wall. She ran over to it and fumbled with the key, and lifted the large lid with a huff.

She looked through the ubiquitous papers. There it was. The damn contract that put Scotland at risk. She had done it. For Scotland. For Mary. She folded the paper, when she suddenly heard footsteps and then, "Your majesty." The footsteps got closer.

Kenna slammed the chest shut and shoved the contract into her bra.

She stood up, and soothed down her dress. _Remain calm. Breathe. Just breathe. _

But it was so hard to breathe. She was scared. So very scared.

Her breath caught in her throat as Henry burst into the room.

An expression of confusion crossed his face, followed instantly by an expression of understanding.

"I know why you're here," he declared, striding into the room.

Kenna's heart sank.

"You do?" she whispered.

He strode over to her and pulled her into his embrace. His breath smelt like whiskey.

"You miss me."

Bravely, Kenna tilted her head. "Yes," she murmured back in her most flirtatious voice. "I miss you."

His lips came crashing down on hers. Hard and aggressive. Kenna wanted to scream but she kissed him back. She felt his hands run all over her body as if she were a piece of meat.

King Henry backed her against the wall as his hands made their way beneath her skirt. _As long as he doesn't get into my bra, all is good_, thought Kenna. _As long as the contract remains in my possession, I can put up with the King. It is for Scotland. For Mary. _

Kenna knew she was a pawn in a chess game called life.

Kenna tried to take her mind away from Henry's rough hands. She leant against the wall, willing herself to calm down. And then suddenly a strange calmness washed over her. She had reached the point when she'd been through so much heartache, that she turned numb. She didn't want to feel anymore, so she turned her emotions off. She pushed them away. She didn't care what people thought about her anymore. There was no guilt. No anger. There was no hatred. No shame. There was no grief. No sadness. There was no fear. Henry had pressed her against the wall and there was absolutely no fear.

Kenna pretended to enjoy the feel of his hands, but thought sadly: _This is how my life will always be. I feel nothing anymore._

But the fear returned when she left his chambers. She was shaking like a leaf. She had given the contract to Mary. She had done it. Saved Scotland. For Mary. But then why did she feel so empty? Like there was a hole inside her heart that nothing would ever fill. She reached her own chambers and stepped inside. She barely registered that Bash was there until he spoke in a harsh voice.

"The King's chambers?"

Her head snapped up. "Excuse me?"

"Do you deny you were there?"

Kenna nearly laughed. Oh how, rumours travelled quickly. _People must gossip about me continuously_. She couldn't tell if this made her feel happy or sad. In fact, she didn't know what she felt anymore.

Across the room, Bash was staring at her angrily; his intense eyes turned into narrow slits. Finally, after a few minutes, Kenna managed to calm herself and found her voice.

"We didn't actually have sex."

"I don't want to calibrate the exact inch you stopped," yelled Bash. "We had an agreement."

"I remember," said Kenna sharply. "I also remember you jumping very high to answer Mary's beckoning call."

"So you visiting my father is a form of childish payback?" said Bash, "Or payment for what?"

Kenna rounded on him; her temper irate.

"You think I went to the King's chambers for fun. He's lost his mind. I was terrified the whole time I was with him." Her words surprised her, because for once they were honest. She was being honest with him. He didn't deserve her honest. He didn't deserve her.

"Then why did you go to him?" said Bash.

"For Mary," Kenna retorted. "My Queen. She asked me to find a secret document that put my country at risk."

Shock filtered across Bash's face. "Mary sent you into the lion's den?" he asked.

"She asked and I agreed," said Kenna. "I know you don't think I notice anything that's not a pretty dress or jewel but strangely enough I give a damn about my country. Henry came in just as I found the paper and there was nothing I could do. I couldn't tell him why I was really there." Kenna shivered at the memory, but they she looked at Bash; tears welling in her eyes. "His very touch makes me ill." Kenna didn't even recognize her own voice. She sounded like a scared little girl. She sounded broken.

"I'm sorry," croaked Bash and Kenna saw that he actually meant it. But sorry was just a word. It wasn't really anything. Everything wasn't really anything.

"My country was at stake," continued Kenna, "but what was at stake when Mary bashed her eyelids and you rushed over to be her true and gentle knight. You'll never be that knight for me. You'll be my husband but never that." Kenna suddenly realised she was crying, but she didn't care. She let the tears rake down her cheeks, leaving a stinging sensation in their wake.

"Stop," said Bash harshly. He strode across the room and sat down in an old armchair. He looked like he was a man that endured a hundred sleepless nights. Maybe he had.

"This marriage is based on nothing," she whispered.

She turned and looked at Bash.

"What a pair my father tied together for a lifetime," said Bash.

"Please don't talk about your father to me," said Kenna.

"Then stop bringing up Mary in every argument we have."

"But don't you see," cried Kenna. "Everything is for Mary. Everything you do is for Mary. Everything I do is for Mary. Everything the world does is for Mary. She is Queen and we are nothing."

"Kenna –"

"Don't bother Bash," she said. "We are who we are. Nothing's going to change that. We are husband and wife, but I've seen that way you look at me; I see the way you look at me now, you don't like me. But that's okay. As long as we both on Mary's side, that's okay."

Kenna stared at him, letting the tears come fully.

"Kenna –"

"I'm going for a walk –"

"Kenna –"

Kenna left their chambers without a backwards glance. Bash let her go. He sat in the old armchair all night, waiting to hear the creak of the chamber doors to open; for Kenna to return, but all he heard all was the sound of rain splatting against the window.

Someone out there was crying.

And the world was crying too.


	4. In the Rain

Chapter 4: In the Rain

A gust of wind racked over Kenna's body as she stepped out from under the courtyard and made her way into the palace yard. Rain fell on her skin with cutting stings. There were no people in sight. Who in their right mind would want to go outside in this weather anyway?

Wrapping her arms around herself, Kenna leant against the castle wall. Sometimes it felt good to stand in the rain and pretend the cold water was washing away everything bad; carrying her own sadness into the palace drains. Sometimes it felt good to let stuff go and think about nothing. But she couldn't. She thought of everything. Henry. Bash. Henry. Bash.

Kenna closed her eyes. She always imagined that when she got married, she'd be a changed woman. Someone who knew where she belonged. Someone prettier. Someone more accomplished. But here I am, she thought bitterly. Still me. Plain, boring me. Forced into marrying a bastard. Whore to the King. I have no title…no land…I am a mess. A broken, beautiful, utter mess.

Tears started to form and fell down her cheeks like little rivers. All she did everyday was cry and sleep. She hated the person she was becoming. She hated her life. She hated Henry. Her legs were trembling. Her arms started shaking too and her hands. Her whole body shook. Kenna couldn't tell if it was from the coldness or her own profound grief.

Kenna's knees buckled. She collapsed on the grass. Dirt streaked her dress, face and hands. She tried to get up but when she realised there was nothing worth getting up for. So she sat in the garden, covered in soil and cried.

The tears fell fast and constant and she was losing her breath, sobs coming from her lips as though someone was tearing them from her. She was falling deeper, deeper into grief.

Gasping a large shaky lungful of air between powerful sobs, Kenna buried her hands in her hands, feeling tears drip from her eyes and nose, streaming down her cheeks and running down her neck and hands. She wanted to stop the pain. She wanted to stop crying. Until then, she never realised how much crying hurt. It hurt her chest. Hurt her face. Her eyes. Everything hurt.

She cried.

Cried.

Cried.

She couldn't stop.

The wind was howling. The rain was pounding. It was dark and cold, and her whole body was shaking. She didn't know how long she sat on the lawn for. It could have been minutes, hours or some other measure of time. The crying came in waves. Her eyes burned. Her emotions ached.

After what felt like an eternity, Kenna lifted her face and rested her chin on her knees and hugged herself, letting the emotions claw at her and the tears burn down her raw cheeks, until she wished she was a little girl again. That she was safe in Scotland. And she would run through parched fields into her father's arms. And he would spin her around, and around; their laughter reverberating through the vicinity like music.

Suddenly, a shadow fell over her. Dazed, Kenna looked up; her stinging eyes just making out Bash's figure through the rain. She looked away from him. Not caring that he saw her vulnerable and broken, she kept on quietly crying, her throat burning with each sob. He would leave soon. Men always do. A crying woman is what always sends them running.

But he didn't go.

As the rain continued to pound down, Kenna got angry. Did Bash come just to gloat at her unexpected form of weakness? Furious, she wished that he would just leave her alone – there was nothing for him to say.

But he didn't go.

"What do you want?" she said sharply, tilting her head to glare at him. "Come to have another go for me being with King Henry?" At the sound of Henry's name, the words left her mouth in a loud sob. The fear of being with Henry overwhelmed her, and suddenly the world felt cold. And the tears fell faster. She looked away from Bash.

"Please go away," she whispered. "I really want to be alone."

But he didn't go.

Suddenly, she his strong arms scoop her arm bridal style. For a brief second, she was tempted to slap, but the fire in her quickly died and she cradled her body against his solid chest. He smelt like forest and earth.

She nestled into his leather jacket as he carried her inside, his voice barely registering in her head. "I'm sorry," he croaked out, the words feeling heavy as they left his mouth. "I'm sorry."

When he reached their chambers, he sat her on the edge of the bed.

"You're soaked to the bone, Kenna," said Bash. "Your dress is ruined. You need to get yourself out of it."

Kenna didn't reply. She was too cold. Too depressed. Too tired. She heard Bash sigh heavily.

"It's either you or me," said Bash sharply. "I know I promised I wouldn't touch you, but I've seen enough men and women die from the cold, and I will not leave in that dress to catch your death. Get up, or so God-help me, I'll remove the dress myself."

There was a resolve in his thought that told Kenna he meant every syllable. That if she didn't undress herself, he'd do it for her. The thought made her shiver harder. But regardless of the terrifying reality, she couldn't bring herself to react. She couldn't bring herself to care.

When Kenna didn't reply, Bash swallowed thickly.

"Very well," he said. He gently pulled her to her feet and stood behind her. Slowly, he began unthreading the laces on by one. Loop hole through loop hole. Kenna stood still and rigid, like a statue. She was paralysed by fear and the unfamiliar sensation of his fingers against her spine. When the dress pooled at her feet, and he started working at her soaked undergarments, she jerked away from his touch like he had burned her.

"Please," she whispered, meeting his intense gaze in the dim lamplight. The intensity of his eyes nearly took her breath away. "Please…don't…just leave them on…I can't…"

Bash stared at her. He saw the fear in her eyes. The echo of Henry's touch.

"Just get in the bed, Kenna," he said, "You need to get warm."

Kenna obeyed without a second thought. She pulled the blankets up, covering her body from his. Bash lay down on the other side of the bed, above the covers and looked at the ceiling.

"Why did you go out in the rain?" he asked eventually.

"Why do you go out into the forest?" Kenna retorted.

Bash tilted his head and looked at her, and for the briefest moment, they had an understanding. He smiled at her slightly.

"I should go. Let you get some sleep." Bash made a move to leave, but Kenna grabbed his hand.

"Stay. Please," she whispered.

Shock and confusion crossed Bash's features; his eyes moving past her face and down towards his hand. Kenna followed his gaze and saw with surprise that her own hand gently covered in his, holding it place. They both looked at their entwine hands for a second; unsure what was happening or what to do. For a moment they said nothing.

"I know I'm not the husband you want Kenna," said Bash eventually, "but I want to make our lives better. Just tell me what you want me to do." His eyes searched her for any hint of what she felt.

"Stay," she said, unable to give him anything else.

So he stayed.

They lay together for a long time; Kenna under the blankets, Bash above.

When, Bash was sure Kenna had fallen asleep, he gently hopped off the bed and walked across the room, towards the wardrobe. He opened the bottom draw. Inside sat a rustic box, the wood of which was littered with protruding splinters and broken nails wedges at odd angles. Bash picked up the box and opened it, the lid falling of its broken hinges, revealing an assortment of trinkets and keepsakes; old buttons, pebbles from the forest and other loose items that at one point held some sort of sentimental value. But Bash had eyes for one item – his mother's old ring. He picked it up and put it on the windowsill. He then stared at the sleeping woman in the bed. His wife.

His wife needed a ring.

Any marriage that ought to work needed a ring.

Bash left the ring sitting on the windowsill and left the chambers.

He wanted to stand in the rain.

Sometimes it felt good to stand in the rain and let stuff go and think about nothing…

As Bash stood in the vast fields, under the rain, Kenna slept soundlessly; not noticing the moon's silvery rays upon the chamber ceiling; streamed with sapphire stripes reflected from a bejewelled ring resting on the window ledge.

**A/N: Thank you so much for all your beautiful reviews so far! This chapter is a gap and silence. I don't own the characters though. For those of you who have read my other fanfics, this chapter starts of the same way, my original fic, "A Little Wolf's Cry" does, so don't be alarmed if there are a lot of similar paragraphs and sentences. I just see a lot of similarities between Hayley from the Originals and Kenna. Anyway, happy reading. **


	5. Try

Chapter 5: Try

The blueness was like a shimmering mosaic. It was pretty. Kenna couldn't deny that…but she was confused.

"What's this?" she asked, looking at Bash.

"A wedding ring," said Bash, almost apologetically. "It's modest I know. It belonged to my grandmother."

"_Oh_."

Kenna looked at the ring; from its rusty band to the mesmerising blue jewel.

"I thought Dianne de Portie came from money."

_Stupid. Stupid. Stop saying the first thing that comes to your head_. She continued to berate herself, but it was too late, the worlds had already tumbled from her untameable mouth.

Bash sighed heavily. "Well, if you don't want it –"

"I didn't say that!"

Kenna hesitated. Her eyes flickered from Bash to the ring, and her voice softened, "it's…just…why?"

"We're married," said Bash simply. "We can't be unmarried. I thought we agreed to at least try."

Kenna almost laughed at the defeated sound of his voice. It wasn't funny – no one thought more so than herself, but it had been so long since she found anything funny, so she turned her threatening laughter into a sarcastic smile.

"How romantic," she said, rolling her eyes.

She felt herself turning her heart inside out – so that the hostile, unreceptive Kenna was on the outside, but truly, beneath layers of hurt, the serene, open Kenna was on the inside, waiting for someone to knock down her walls.

Kenna slipped the ring onto her finger. It was a perfect fit and a strange sensation swept over her as she looked down at it. "There," she whispered to the ring, "Let's try."

Finally, when she looked up, Bash was staring at her peculiarly. His lips twitched into a small smile. Butterflies fluttered in the pit of Kenna's stomach and she didn't know why.

"There's a promising start," he said.

But promising starts never stayed promising. A few hours later, Kenna found herself in an awkward and unpleasant situation. She had been sitting in the foyer talking to Greer, when King Henry came over and dismissed Greer like she was nothing but an irksome fly.

Whispers flooded through the foyer. Exchanges about King Henry and his whore.

"I get headaches," said Henry eventually.

_So?_ Thought Kenna bitterly. _I get headaches every day. Headaches every time I'm in the presence of his majesty._ She had the urge to tell him that, but then she remembered he was the King and she was no one of any significance. She was just a bug squashed at the bottom of his royal boot.

"I'm so sorry," she said volubly.

He sat down beside her, before laying his head on her lap. Kenna froze. Every nerve quivered with fear. She sat like a statue, rigid and still.

All of a sudden, the foyer turned into a giant beehive – a buzzing of sniggers and whispers seemed to hang in the air as people gossiped about Kenna. The famous whore. Kenna tried to ignore them, but each whisper felt like a twisting dagger to her heart.

"You're touch," croaked Henry. His thick fingers curled around her wrist and he dragged her hand to his forehead and sighed. "You're touch is so soothing," he murmured.

The whispered grew louder. Kenna wanted to run away, run away to a place where nobody knew her. She wanted to run to be emancipated. Emancipated from her association to Henry, from her marriage to Bash, from the constant rumours at court, but she couldn't…women at court could sink below hell for emancipation…it wasn't real…nothing was real…

Kenna's fingers trailed over the lines of Henry's forehead and she imagined her nails were knives…and then suddenly, he was there, across the foyer. They locked eyes, and Kenna tried to put many unsaid things into that exchange and maybe Bash understood them, because he swallowed thickly, before walking forward. He didn't look around. If he did, he'd probably slaughter half the people in the room for their rude whispers. He saw Kenna sitting on the couch, with Henry sprawled across her lap like a drunken man. He saw her fear. The way her eyes widened, rimmed with beautiful long eyelashes. He knew what he needed to do. That was all. Nothing else mattered. He needed to help his wife.

"Father," he said, striding forward with confidence.

"Mmm?" said Henry absently.

"Father." Bash knelt down at Kenna's feet, like a man begging for forgiveness, but the words were for his father. "I think Queen Penelope's getting jealous. You know how women are."

Henry sighed and pushed himself off Kenna roughly. Bash saw her flinch. He had the urge to grab her hand, to comfort her in a way he didn't know how.

"It's a burden sometimes," sighed Henry as he got up and walked away.

Bash and Kenna stared at each other for a long time.

_He's going to yell at me for being with Henry again,_ thought Kenna. She looked at him, waiting for him to explode…waiting for him to whisper about her just like the whole castle did…but he didn't.

Slowly, he stood up and held out his hand. All Kenna could think of was the last time, she had grabbed his hand was when she was lying half-naked in her bed. _Their_ bed. Before Kenna realised it, Bash's hand reached out – his fingers caked with dirt and his knuckles swollen from fencing with Francis – and he took tight hold of her hand, lacing his fingers through hers. Kenna returned the pressure and allowed him to lead her up and away from the foyer.

"I wasn't expecting to see you here," she said honestly.

"Because Mary's not here?" enquired Bash. Bash knew he had guessed right by the look on Kenna's face and he added hastily, "I didn't come looking for Mary. I was worried about you."

"Why?"

"Because you're not safe in this castle and I will always defend you, because you're my wife."

You are my wife. You are my wife. The words echoed and rattled around in Kenna's brain. He doesn't love me. She looked into his eyes. But he doesn't hate me either. He's trying, and maybe I'm trying too.

For the first time in a week, Kenna smiled.

**A/N: I know the scene with Henry comes before the ring scene in the show, but I decided to swap the time to develop the relationship in this fic. Happy reading, and thanks for all the reviews. They make me warm and happy. **


	6. The Ring Wearer

Chapter 6: The Ring Wearer

After the dramatic incident in the foyer, Kenna and Bash left the castle and walked through the palace garden, following the perimeter of the forest. It was twilight. They walked for a long time, speaking only sometimes. Kenna didn't know how long they walked for, it could have been minutes or hours, when suddenly Bash stopped walking and Kenna nearly crashed into him.

Kenna looked at him. Bash was breathing light, his face a definition of awe; green eyes lit up by the moon peering through the trees of the forest, touching the inky sky with imponderable brilliance. The grass beneath their feet was wet. Tiny specks of rain fell from the clouds. They were cold against Kenna's skin, but felt sweet as they dripped down her neck.

Kenna looked at Bash and saw him shiver slightly.

"Thank you," said Kenna.

At the sound of her soft voice, Bash met her gaze, his expression confused.

"For everything you've done for me," Kenna clarified.

"I haven't done anything –"

"You have," said Kenna aggressively, "you've been kind to me…you defended me today…"

"Of course I defended you," said Bash, "you're my wife."

Kenna's lips curled into a small smile. "That's a load of bullocks, you know. I've seen many married couples around court – most husbands treat their wives in horrid ways…they don't defend them, they shame them, they are verbally and physical abusive…their wives are below stinking pigs in the hierarchy of their minds." Kenna took a deep breath, "you know," she started, "before I married you, I thought you'd be the same." Bash raised an eyebrow and Kenna hastened on, "it's just that you were the King's notorious bastard…people whispered about you all the time…they still do."

"And why do they say?" asked Bash, genuinely curious. They was no anger in his voice, but rather a simple light-heartedness, as though all the rumours about him could be shoved to hell.

"That you are brave, fearless and often cruel…that you only survive in the forest when others don't because your soul is as dark as the forest itself."

Bash didn't say anything to the announcement. He knew the rumours. It was nothing new, but there was something in the way Kenna said it…something different in her voice…it gave him the feeling that she didn't believe the famous rumours and Bash felt a candle of hope burn inside of him.

"I thought you'd be another Henry," he heard Kenna say eventually.

Bash turned his head and looked at her. "That's not the type of man I am," he replied.

Kenna heard a pinch of hurt in his voice. Automatically, her hand came up as though it had a mind of its own, and reached out to caress Bash's cheek, following the path down his jawline, and feeling the roughness of his stubble graze her fingertips.

"I know," whispered Kenna. "I see that now."

Their eyes clashed for a moment – brown against blue – and Kenna was swimming in the intensity of his gaze, and it was all too much. She dropped her hand away and took a step back, embarrassed

"I guess what I'm trying to say is that you didn't have to come for me today," said Kenna, "just because you feel obligated to…just because I'm your wife –"

"I didn't feel obligated to," Bash interrupted. "I wanted to. It may come to a surprise to you, but I actually care about you _Kenna_. I want you to be here. I want you to feel safe in our chambers…in court, and even though we don't love each other, I want you to be happy."

He took a step closer to her again. Kenna shivered. She wasn't sure if it was from the soft rain or his overwhelming proximity.

"I think I could be happy," said Kenna, tilting her head to look up at him. "I'm happy now."

Bash reached out a hand and tucked a loose strand of Kenna's ear around her ear. His touch was so gentle, so unfamiliar that Kenna didn't know how to respond.

"I'm glad," she heard Bash say.

They were so close to one another that Kenna thought he was going to kiss her. Part of her wanted him to, but another part wanted to run in the opposite direction.

"It's drizzling," said Kenna, looking away

Her voice broke the spell.

"Yes," replied Bash, taking a step back and tilting his head to look at the sky. "Yes it is."

Under the gentle specks of rain, they watched the moon rise above the treetops and for a long time they were silent.

The next day, there was more unfairness at court – Penelope ordered Kenna to give up her wedding ring, and as Kenna handed it over, she felt like she had lost a part of her hand. Even when Catherine gave her another one – one of more opulence – it didn't feel the same. The day continued with its dramatic. Queen Catherine offered Kenna a deal – one in which she could gain wealth, land, status and the chance to get her ring back, and as Kenna accepted the offer, she realised that this was the first time she had done something not just for herself, or Scotland, but for a man.

For Bash.

She was going to get her wedding ring back, no matter what.

And so she did.

**A/N: Thanks for your patience on this chapter guys. It's a gap and silence. Hope you like it. **


	7. Kissing Kenna

Chapter 7: Kissing Kenna

"My father believed that man was part of the Vatican delegation," said Bash. He looked at Kenna and smiled. "You did it and now you're saying we're rich."

"Well, richer than we were," said Kenna modestly. "And guess what, Catherine let me also keep the ring." She held out her hand, where a sparkling gem curled around one of her slender fingers.

"You've got everything you've wanted," said Bash, smiling. "Land, money, jewellery." He paused, and the added, "Practically everything." Kenna knew what he was about to say. Practically everything except love. She looked up at him.

"I was able to get this back as well." This time she held out her left hand, where his mother's ring occupied her ring finger. "Penelope looked so pathetic back in the kitchen…I couldn't resist," said Kenna smugly.

Bash smiled. "Shall I buy you a new ring now that we can afford it?"

"No you fool! You have it to me." Kenna sighed and looked down at the ring; a small smile pressed to her lips. "I get such a queer feeling whenever I look at it," she said; more to herself than to him.

"What's that?" asked Bash.

"A sort of certainty. One I've never felt before. Someone's going to always be looking out for me now. No matter what."

"I'm not sure you need looking out for," replied Bash.

Kenna stepped forward bravely. She shouldn't, but she wanted this. Not wanting to fight the attraction any longer, she fisted the lapels of his coat, and said flirtatiously, "might as well put him to some kind of use."

Their lips drew closer, just like the moment on the edge of the forest. The almost moment. The almost kiss. Kenna lifted her chin, wanting more. There was an unbearable moment when she thought he wouldn't kiss her. She strained towards him, the pull outweighing her fear of rejection and humiliation, and then like a storm over an ocean, the moment passed and his lips touched hers.

Kenna swayed closer to him, rising to her toes and fisting her hands in his tousled hair. His lips were soft, warm but firm, and he responded in kind, anchoring her body against his. The kiss, which started out, slow and explorative, soon became an inferno of desire. She couldn't get enough close enough to him, and his hands couldn't touch her everywhere at once. Kenna moaned, her hands pushing off his jacket, then his shirt, only slowing down when her fingers caressed the naked contours of his chest; the defined paths of athleticism. She had seen him shirtless a couple of times, but she had never seen him as the man he was. Never realised that she wanted him. She wanted this.

Kenna didn't protest when Bash's lips crashed down on hers again. She ran her cold hands across his body until they were warm. Bash was lost in a world of his own desire. The feeling of her body, flushed against his. Her intoxicating scent. The feel of threading her luscious hair through his fingers. He was going too fast. This was happening to fast. He could hardly think straight.

"Kenna…" he caution, pulling away. Kenna gave him no time to protest. She reached for him again. His lips opened and Kenna deepened the kiss, pulling Bash towards her. They explore each other for a long time. Bash peppered butterfly kisses down her neck and collarbone, steering clear of the laces of her bodice. In kind, Kenna's raked her hands down his spine; feeling the muscles of his shoulders, arms, his chest, tracing the path down lower.

Only when she reached for his belt did Bash grab both her hands, stilling them gently.

"Kenna, it's too soon," he whispered, trying to find his voice, his very breath. He leant his forehead against hers, breathing heavily. "It's too soon."

"No, it's not," said Kenna. "I'm your wife. It's not too soon. In the eyes of God we're too late in consummating this marriage."

"It's not the right time," repeated Bash.

"Will there ever be a right time?" said Kenna, stepping away. Hurt and rejection overwhelmed her.

Bash reached out and cupped her face. She wanted to pull away from his touch in an act of defiance but didn't, because deep down, she wanted his touch. Now that she had a taste, she craved him.

"There will be a right time," he affirmed.

"This is weird," said Kenna. She gestured to the small space between them, where their breaths mingled in the air. "This relationship between you and I is complicated."

He hands curled around her neck, and he brought his lips slowly to her forehead. He pressed a fleeting kiss there. "Yes. It is," he whispered.


	8. Bring him Home

Chapter 8: Bring him Home

Sunlight streamed through the chambers windows. Kenna opened her eyes, just a tad and saw Bash pulling open the curtains and flooding the room with sunlight. Kenna groaned and buried her face in the pillow.

"Are you sick?" asked Bash.

"No," said Kenna.

"But you're still in bed…and it's almost midday." He sat on the edge of bed beside her.

"It's just…just I'm a bit embarrassed about last night."

Bash's brow furrowed. "Believe it or not, I'm not clairvoyant – you're going to have to be more specific."

Kenna couldn't tell if he was just toying with her. Surely he must know. Kenna bit on her lip and looked up at him through her long lashes.

"You know…" she began but Bash interrupted her by saying, "you're embarrassed about this?" And then he kissed her, and Kenna forgot to breathe, and this time the movement of their lips felt familiar, like they understood one another, the pace, and the pressure. Kenna threw off the blankets that were constricting her legs and got on her knees, so she was towering over him. She cupped his face with her hands, drawing him closer, and once again the fire in her lower belly burned. She had never felt this way with Henry. It was new, unfamiliar, terrifying and exciting.

"Kenna –" Bash cautioned.

Kenna pulled away in frustration. "You're serious about the no sex thing aren't you?"

"Very serious," said Bash. He planted a butterfly kiss on her jawline and added, "for now."

"Fine," huffed Kenna as she pulled away. "Excuse me while I go to the bathroom, and get changed into something respectable."

She got off the bed and headed into the bathroom, adjacent to their chambers. She closed the door behind her and took off her nightgown, leaving her in lace undergarments. She stared at herself in the mirror, wide-eyed, tracing her own fingers over her lips. They were still tingling. And her neck. He had kissed her there. Once or twice. Kenna felt breathy just reliving the moment in her mind. So caught up in her fantasy, she barely heard Bash's voice from the other side of the door.

"I have some news to share with you Kenna. I don't know whether you'll be happy about it or not."

Kenna missed what he said and opened the bathroom door, stepping back into the chambers, cladded only in vintage lace undergarments.

"What were you saying?" she asked, leaning against the doorframe.

"Um, I was…" His eyes raked over her body, "…oh, Jesus Christ –"

"I could change into some clothes, if that makes you feel more comfortable," said Kenna, with a smile small. It pleased her to see that she was having an effect on him.

"Good Lord no, don't. I can…ah…control myself."

Kenna smirked. "Continue then."

Bash swallowed thickly. "Um, I'm leaving for the bloodwood today and won't be returning for a week."

The smile on Kenna's face vanished instantly.

"Fine," she said; her voice hard. "Good luck on your expedition."

"Do I get a kiss goodbye?"

Kenna stared at him, unblinkingly. "Can you handle it?"

Bash stared at her half-naked form again. "Probably not," he admitted. "Goodbye Kenna."

"Goodbye."

And he left her alone in the doorway.

That afternoon, Kenna stood in the courtyard and looked out at the forest, wondering where Bash was, if he was okay…if he was thinking about her, because she certainly couldn't stop thinking about him. He was like a disease, infecting her mind, yet she wanted more of him. She felt Greer come and stand beside her. They both stood side by side, letting the afternoon breeze tickle their faces.

"Are you okay Kenna?"

"I just want him to come home to me."

Greer looked surprised at her words, but no one was more surprised than Kenna herself. Did she say she wanted him back? The man she did not want to marry? Did not want to kiss? Did not want anything to do with?

She guessed time and feelings changed. Her heart dropped a little as she realised she was falling in love with him. Falling in love with the King's bastard. Not only was she breaking her childhood promise, but she felt scared, because giving your heart to someone was a dangerous thing to do.

But she wanted him home.

Bring him home.

Bring him home.

_Bring him back to me. _


End file.
